


Down In The Shadows

by Caughtinblackseyes



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caughtinblackseyes/pseuds/Caughtinblackseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah escapes into the Faery Realm in order to get away from her dreary existence with her foster family.  Little does she realize that all of her adventures to the Land of the Fae come with a price to pay!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and make no money.

**_“Down in the shadows where once I remained, I dreamt me a dream without fear without shame. It crept up behind me; I didn’t sense its approach as so often the case when a dream carries hope. It flashed in my mind, an instance is all, and then darkness returned embracing my fall. Though only a moment it had left its mark, a brief warmth that ruined the dankness; the dark.”_ **

 

 

 

**Chapter 1**

 

 

 

“She’s back,” the Halfling stated with evident relish. “How many times is this now?”

 

Jareth sighed as he rested his temple against his fisted palm. Tanis knew exactly how many times this mortal child had found her way into the Faery realms. The young do so have a love of the dramatic. But, Tanis was one of the few who had found favor in Jareth’s eyes. Hadn’t it been Tanis’ sense of fun and mischief that had drawn him to the Halfling in the first place? Most certainly it had, and in most cases Jareth took great pleasure in feeding into that drama. Today was an off day and so Jareth was not inclined to play.

 

“You know very well that this is the third time.”

 

Tanis’ head whipped around at the bored, waspish quality of Jareth’s answer. Settling back into his chair, he rolled his eyes. Oh, joy. It was going to be one of _those_ days.

 

Not one to be cowed, Tanis replied in a jaunty manner, “Three. Yes, I knew it was something along those lines. Remarkable.”

 

“Remarkable,” the king echoed in a voice filled with boredom.

 

Okay, thought the young Halfling, it wasn’t just going to be one of _those_ days, it was going to be one of _THOSE_ days. Tanis decided to ignore Jareth and his glum mood and turned once more to gaze into the large crystal floating in front of them.

 

 “She’s grown quite pretty,” he mumbled under his breath.

 

“Has she?” Jareth’s inquiry showed a bit more enthusiasm.

 

Tanis grinned. Jareth was susceptible to pretty things. His palace was housed with objects of beauty and delight. Tanis enjoyed visiting just for the sheer pleasure in walking through the gardens, or peering into rooms in which paintings and sculptures rested. His appreciation for the naked form had sprung from the divine works of Michelangelo.

 

“Oh, yes…” Tanis pushed on, thrilled that the king was, at last, showing signs of moving beyond this black funk. “Quite lovely indeed! Long, dark hair and huge eyes the color of which would rival the greenest of your finest emeralds.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tanis saw the king perk up considerably. “Really?”  Jareth leaned forward resting his elbows on the arms of his throne. “Show me,” he commanded with quiet intensity.

 

At his words the glittering mists parted on Jareth’s side of the crystal. Through narrowed eyes he saw the girl. She was young, but not so young that one couldn’t help but be aware of the fact that she was but a few steps away from becoming a woman.

 

She was dressed in what looked to be some sort of play acting garb. It was a dress that fell in a cascading white wave to the tips of her dirty bare feet. It had clearly been worn many times. The long flowing v-cut sleeves were fraying about the edges and there was a ragged rip near the hem which had been mended with thread that appeared to be several shades darker than the actual cloth.

 

Her make-shift girdle was nothing more than a child’s jump rope tied tightly beneath her unfettered breasts, and served to emphasize her narrow waist and the beginnings of rounded, feminine hips. She twirled with youthful abandonment, her slender arms and face raised to the heavens. Her slightly exotic features carried a beatific expression that was arresting. And although her almond shaped eyes were at present closed, he did not doubt for one second the word of Tanis and his description of their beauty.

 

Her hair - a banner of not quite black – shone brightly under the watchful gaze of the mid-day sun. Atop the crown of her head sat a coronet of crushed flowers bound together by a length of multi-colored ribbons. As she flew and danced with untutored grace across the lush green grass, so too did her hair dance and fly behind her, and every now and again the strands would splash wildly against the smooth skin of her cheeks.

 

Yes, Jareth mused silently, she was a lovely creature. Lovely and unspoiled, and though she looked carefree he felt the dark shadow which hung over this girl-child. 

 

“What age do you suppose her to be?” Jareth asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

 

Cocking his head to the side, Tanis took a moment to study the contents of the crystal before saying, “She looks to be what the humans call the age of a teen.”

 

“Well, that narrows it down somewhat,” Jareth chided derisively. “Can you do no better?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Tanis replied, “The last time she wandered into Fae lands I believe she was in the area of ten years.” Nodding his head up and down, he continued with certainty, “Yes, she was ten. I remember because she mentioned her age while chatting with the sprites.”

 

Jareth allowed himself a small smile. “Yes, I recall it now. The sprites were uncommonly kind to her before they led her from the Hollow Hills. She told them some outrageous story of being a princess, the beloved daughter of the ‘wisest and bestest king there ever was.’ Jareth chuckled. “Those silly feather-brains believed her absurd story.”

 

Grinning, Tanis added, “She did tell it quite charmingly. If I hadn’t known better I might have taken her story to heart as well. Perhaps her so-called royal heritage kept her safe? Those nasty little sprites have quite the stinging bite!”

 

Jareth answered back in amusement, “If you persist in teasing and taunting them, they will defend themselves.”

 

Jareth returned his gaze to the crystal and peered more closely. Raising his hand, he beckoned to the image of the girl until all that could be seen was her face. For awhile, he said nothing; simply stared at her through veiled eyes.

 

When he finally did speak, he said, “The first time she appeared she had broken through a dreamscape. Her desire must have been immense in order for her to have done so. You arrived just as the wood nymphs were in the process of sending her to the Lady of the Lake.”

 

Grimacing, Tanis remarked, “She put up quite a fuss if I recall correctly.”

 

“You do,” Jareth assured him gravely. It had disturbed him greatly the manner in which the child had cried and pleaded. It had been a curious thing to behold. Jareth wasn’t accustomed to such behavior. The few mortal children who had managed to stray away from their own world had been frightened and wailed until they were once more home with their families. This one had done the exact opposite. “I thought I might have to attend to the situation personally, but in the end Nimuae prevailed.”

 

“So,” Tanis sighed, “she’s made it through the dreamscape, the Hollow Hills, and now the fairy ring. What are the odds? They’d have to be astronomical.”

 

With a negligent wave of his hand the crystal returned the girls image to its original proportions. “It is not unheard of,” Jareth refuted the Halfling. “But, this girl,” Jareth motioned to the crystal, “is close to womanhood, and that has me extremely curious.”

 

Scratching his head, Tanis asked, “Why? If it’s not unheard of as you say.”

 

In exasperation, Jareth remarked, “If you would listen attentively while the goblins are being taught human and Faery-lore you would know that none… _none_ have reached the maturation of this one.”

 

Tanis turned away. He hated being reminded of his half-breed lineage. Since the day of his birth he had been treated with contempt by the factions of both of his parents. He would have been destroyed had not his plight come to the attention of the Goblin King.

 

Tanis wasn’t stupid, and he’d learned long ago that the king hadn’t been moved by compassion but by curiosity alone. He did not doubt that had he been a full-blooded goblin and on the brink of destruction, the king would not have stepped in at all. It had just been one of _those_ days and, the king, seeking diversion had intervened.

 

He’d been fostered by a motley crew of goblins, Fiery’s, gnomes, and even the wise old man with the chicken hat had played a part in his upbringing. Jareth had all but forgotten his existence until he had repeatedly gotten into so much trouble that the king had been forced to take a stand. Fortunately, for him, the king had been so delighted with his twisted sense of humor and mischievous ways that he’d brought him back to the castle to be further educated.

 

“How is it,” Jareth wondered aloud, “that one so advanced in age has managed to pass through the veil?” Sitting upright in a swift movement, the king roared, “Hogshead!”

 

A short, squat dwarf dressed in a brightly colored tunic hurried forward and as he bowed his head in deference to his lord, Tanis heard him grumble, “Hoggle. Hoggle is my name. He never gets it right.”

 

Tanis’ smile was wiped completely from his face, when Jareth asked in a steely voice, “What was that, Hogwart?”

 

“Nothen, your highness,” replied the dwarf as he nervously twisted his hat between his hands. “How can I serve you?”

 

“You can serve me by going to the archives and digging up all the information that we have stored there on this child.”

 

Hoggle squinted slightly and raised up onto his toes to better view its occupant. With an exasperated exhalation, Jareth made it so that the orb lowered to the dwarf’s height.

 

“Oh, bother! It’s _that_ one again!”

 

“You know of her?” Jareth’s tone was light but Tanis could tell by how is lean body had stiffened that he’d been startled by this disclosure.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” the dwarf muttered crossly. “She’s a worse nuisance than those sprites I’m always haven to spray.”

 

“Do you mean to tell me that this girl has appeared outside the borders of the Labyrinth?!”

 

The king’s harsh demand had obviously frightened the dwarf. He swallowed hard several times. Tanis could see-and smell-the line of pungent sweat that had broken out over his rather large nose.

 

He hesitated, before whisper, “Yes, your highness.”

 

Jareth leapt from his throne, and striding over to where the cowering dwarf huddled, delivered a swift, hard kick to the poor beasts head.

 

“You idiot,” the king roared. “Why have you not spoken of this before?”

 

The dwarf having regained his footing, said tentatively, “I didn’t… didn’t know it was important.”

 

Jareth placed his hands on his hips, and from his superior height, mocked the dwarf. “‘I didn’t know it was important?’ Bah!” Jareth pulled his arm back and hit the dwarf along side his face with a stinging blow. “I should have you horse-whipped for your stupidity! Or, better yet, exiled to the Bog!”

 

Hoggle fell to his knees in supplication, and entreated the king with tears in his eyes, “Oh please your highness, I beg of you! Have me horse-whipped as many times as you like! Anything, but the Bog!”

 

Tanis shivered at the maliciously gleeful expression on Jareth’s face. It was not often that he was privy to the king’s anger and its consequences. He knew that Jareth could be cruel; he’d heard the stories whispered amongst the servants. Still, never having been on the receiving end of Jareth’s ire had made him think that perhaps those stories had been exaggerated. If the scene before him was anything to go by, apparently they hadn’t.

 

“You will tell me all that you know on this girl, do you understand you lowly nincompoop?”

 

“Yes, sire… yes,” the dwarf hurriedly agreed. He’d agree to just about anything if it kept him out of the Bog.

 

“Well?” The king yelled. “What are you waiting for? Begin!”

 

With a helpless look, Hoggle asked, “Where do ya want me to start?”

 

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose, and then suggested snidely, “The beginning, you little scab. Where all stories start!”

 

Screwing up his face in concentration, the dwarf said, “Well, was bout four years ago that she first showed up.” Hoggle stopped at the enraged look on the king’s face. When the king said nothing, he continued in a voice that quavered, “After that, she pretty much showed up every year till now. But,” he hurriedly added, “She didn’t show up in the Goblin kingdom _this_ year.” Hoggle was hoping that little fact would be his salvation.

 

“She didn’t show up here because she is currently dancing in the Elysian Fields along with the Pan fairies as you have seen for yourself, you moronic midget!”

 

“Oh,” was the dwarf’s unenthusiastic response.

 

“In point of fact, she has been in the Fae world up to seven times.” Tanis’ gasp echoed in the throne room. “Yes,” Jareth agreed, sounding very grave. “We might have a problem.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jareth questions a Pan fairy to try to discover how much they might know of Sarah. 
> 
> Hoggle gets sent on a mission by Jareth that he's not at all sure he wants any part of!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still own nothing and make no money.

****

* * *

****

**_“A cry… a whisper… a sigh… a lost moan_ **

**_the darkness cares not if you’re_ **

**_cold and alone._ **

****

**_It wants to devour, to feast on your dreams_ **

**_‘til nothing remains, or so it would seem.”_ **

**Chapter 2**

 

 

Jareth snapped his leather encased fingers and immediately a Pan fairy appeared before him, her gossamer wings flitting rapidly. She was tiny, barely a hand span tall, but she was fully formed and as beautiful as any Fae woman who walked the Underground free of wings.

 

Her hair was a bright yellow – putting Tanis in mind of the wild buttercups which grew right outside of his chamber window – the sides of which were tied up into a loose knot at the crown of her head. Several brown and ash colored twigs kept the mass of fluffy, bunched up curls in place. The rest was allowed to cascade freely down the length of her body ending at the backs of her miniscule ankles.

 

Her attire was a wispy bit of vermillion-colored gauzy material that covered all the relevant female parts. The rest of her perfectly formed limbs and body were left bare.  Tanis could never quite fathom how the scant amount of clothing that they did wear managed to stay put. He could discern no way in which it was tied or buttoned, or held together anywhere. Fairies were notorious for their lack of modesty and no doubt, when in their own company, wore nothing what-so-ever.

 

Tiny she might be, but her voice was well developed and rang out with a clear, chime-like quality. “You summoned me, your grace?”

 

“Indeed I did.” Jareth said, and then bowed his head slightly. A gesture she reciprocated. “How do you fare, Lady Peony?”

 

“All is well,” she assured him with a smile.

 

A single, slanted eyebrow rose high on Jareth’s forehead. “Is it,” he questioned, his tone genial enough but his gaze was rife with speculation.

 

“But, of course,” was her emphatic reply. When the king merely stared steadily at her, saying nothing, she elaborated with enthusiasm, “The fields are fragrant, the bees buzz happily, the winds whirl warmly…

 

“And, what of intruders,” Jareth asked, interrupting the effusive description of her homeland. Ignoring her sniff of disapproval at his rudeness, he went on, “Have you been troubled by them as of late?”

 

Peony’s opalescent eyes shifted slightly to the left before she answered in what Tanis thought was a very careful manner. “There are always those who lose their way, your grace.”

 

“Of course,” was the king’s bland rejoinder, “It must be quite tiresome for you?”

 

‘At times,” she readily agreed. “But, such fun while it lasts.”

 

“You and your sisters _do_ return intruders after you’ve had your play as is the usual custom?”

 

The warning note in Jareth’s voice had Peony flittering back several inches. Her hands fluttered nervously in front of her as if she didn’t know what to do with them. She settled for patting the top-knotted curls at the back of her head.

 

Clearing her throat, she reminded him in a deferential tone, “Actually, your grace, our custom is a bit more complicated than that.” Another rise of Jareth’s aristocratic brow. “We _can_ choose who to keep and who to send back,” she finished with a satisfied grin.

 

Grinning himself, Jareth replied, “Lady, I am aware of all of the customs in this land.” Tapping his chin, he said, “If I remember my lore correctly,” the tapping of his chin ceased as he leaned forward and stated in a steely manner, “and I _do_ … there is a time limit on this ‘keeping’ of those who accidentally, or otherwise, end up in your Fields.”

 

There was a small pause before Peony answered. “What you say is true, your grace.”

 

“I know,” he purred. With a slight crook of his fingers Jareth motioned for the crystal orb to move closer to the fluttering fairy and asked quite pleasantly, “How long has _this_ child been in the Fields?”

 

Peony spared a brief glance at the hovering orb. There was no need for more than that for they all knew that she was already well aware of what she would find within its depths.

 

“Not so very long,” was her less than adequate reply.

 

Jareth must have thought so too, because his mask of civility slipped. “Do not trifle with me, Lady. Your position as Queen Viola’s daughter is all that saves you from a more, shall we say…” he paused, and with a wicked glint in his mismatched eyes continued, “…rigorous questioning.”

 

Taking a deep calming breath, she exclaimed, “You would not!”

 

Instead of answering her, Jareth conjured up a crystal and deftly rolled it back and forth between his fingers. After several passes across his knuckles, he flipped the crystal to his other hand and began the process all over again.

 

Seemingly engrossed in his display, he cocked his head to the side and queried dispassionately, “Do you truly wish to test me?” Still following the movements of the crystal, he followed his question up with a whispered threat, “I would not recommend it. Those who have dared have not gone unpunished.”

 

Peony’s triangular face drained of all color. Jareth’s thin lips curved up into an unpleasant smile, he was clearly enjoying with her reaction.

 

 “It has always amazed me how something so small…” Jareth murmured absently, while twisting the orb to and fro before slowly closing his fingers tightly around it and squeezing. “How something so fragile…” Jareth paused dramatically and then slowly opened his clenched fist and tilted his hand until a stream of glittering residue fell from his grasp, “…Could be so easily destroyed.”  

 

The fluttering of Peony’s wings faltered and she dropped several inches before catching herself. With a voice that quavered, she said, “The q…queen would never allow anything to happen to one of her daughters.”

 

“Queen Viola would never allow anything to happen to her _first_ -born daughters,” Jareth corrected her. “In point of fact, she has no real use of you; you are well down the line of succession.” He continued, heedless of his cruelty, “Why do you think it is that she has you, one of royal lineage, designated as a mere messenger? One who answers my call whenever it pleases me?” Sitting forward in his throne, Jareth continued with a malicious smile etched on his fine features. “I could crush your wings right this minute, and your dear mother – the queen –would not bat an eye _or_ come to your defense.”

 

Peony’s lashes were fluttering as quickly as her wings, and Tanis was inclined to feel sorry for her. He was sure that there were crystalline tears swimming in their opal-like depths.

 

Tanis knew that the first-born fairy daughters were held in high esteem and guarded their positions jealously. If they perceived a threat to their rank they didn’t hesitate to ‘take care of' whoever was attempting usurp their place amongst those destined to, someday, inherit the title of queen. Lady Peony was no threat to the favored four of the first-borns: Strelitzia, Nerine, Salix, and Sweet Pea.

 

The queen had many more daughters as it was not unheard of for fairies to propagate profusely. It was needed because, although, the queen lived for many long years the majority of her children were not so fortunate. Only the sharing of the queen’s power kept the flock from expiring beyond their life-span mark.

 

Not many were privy to the ways of the Fairy as such knowledge was extremely dangerous to the owner if you were not part of the Fairy clan. Tanis was one of those with such knowledge. At Jareth’s request, he was being tutored in the ways of all the species which dwelled in the Underground.

 

Peony’s humiliation was complete. Her brightly colored head hung on her swan-like neck as if it were far too heavy to hold it up.  “Very well,” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering. “Even as we speak, Myrtle is leading her from the circle.”

 

Suddenly, the crystal which moments earlier had held Sarah’s face flew past Peony barely missing her trembling body as it zoomed into Jareth’s palm. He scrutinized its contents intently before turning his gaze once more to the fairy who was wringing her hands and snuffling.

 

“Did she administer the dust before returning the girl Above?” Jareth’s query was met with a frightened sob. “Did she,” he demanded loudly, his expression thunderous.

 

Gulping convulsively, her slender shoulders shaking violently, Peony managed to get out a, “No, your grace.”

 

“Why not,” Jareth spat out between clenched teeth.

 

Biting her lip, Peony turned her strange white eyes to Jareth, a look of heart-breaking pleading reflected there. “Please, your grace, I cannot answer your query.” Jareth waited for her to elaborate, but the fairy simply looked back at him with wide, wary eyes. “I _cannot_!”

 

The desperation in which the fairy made her statement startled Tanis. Not so Jareth. He appeared to be completely unfazed by her response, and merely asked, “But, she has been returned safely to her home?”

 

Relieved at Jareth’s change in topic, Peony let out a shaking breath and answered quickly, “Yes, your grace!’ Then, she added with great fervor, “I give you my word!”

 

“Very well,” was his slow reply, “You may return to your Fields.”

 

Peony blinked. “I can?” She asked, clearly taken off guard.

 

“I am in an exceedingly generous frame of mind, Lady Peony,” Jareth answered back, sounding very generous indeed, but the gleam in his mismatched eyes told a different story altogether.

 

Tanis was familiar with that look and he knew – even if the fairy seemed oblivious to the truth of the situation – that this was far from over.

 

Peony’s face split into a dazzling smile, and bowing repeatedly she gushed, “Thank you, your grace! Thank you so very much!”

 

“It is nothing,” he demurred. “Pass on my greetings to your mother the next time you are in her presence.”

 

Peony’s face clouded over and her smile had all but disappeared. “About my mother…” Peony hesitated, looking confused and conflicted.

 

With a negligent wave of his hand, Jareth helped her along by saying, “I see no reason for your mother to be informed of this little visit.”

 

“You are all graciousness,” was Peony enthusiastic reply, smiling once more.

 

Examining the stitching along the side of his glove, Jareth replied in a languid tone, “I know.”

 

Peony, aware that the audience with the king had come to an end, vanished.

 

“I can hardly fathom it,” Tanis said, totally flummoxed. “You let her go without learning the truth of the matter!”

 

“There was no point in pressing her further,” Jareth informed him as he snapped his fingers once more. Tanis watched in fascination as the shimmering pile of dust at Jareth’s feet rose from the floor and refashioned itself into a perfect globe.

 

“Why not,” Tanis wondered aloud, watching Jareth as he twirled the two baubles like an expert juggler.

 

“It would have done no good,” Jareth murmured absently. “She was under a Solemn Oath.”

 

Looking astounded, Tanis remarked, “She did not say as much.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jareth muttered, “No, but it was obvious. If not, she would have crumbled under my questioning just as this crystal,” Jareth nodded to the repaired orb, “crumbled beneath my grasp.”

 

Tanis watched as Jareth threw both of the crystals into the air where they disappeared simultaneously. “No,” Jareth added quietly, “there is something more at work here. Only a Solemn Oath would have kept her silent. There can be no other explanation.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Tanis did, indeed, sound confused. “Why would she take a Solemn Oath? Kendell has told me that ‘such an oath is quite rare and most dangerous to invoke,’” he pointed out, quoting his knowledgeable tutor.

 

“So you do pay attention to your studies,” Jareth’s lips curled up into an amused smile. “Kendell will be pleased.”

 

“He does occasionally have something of interest to say,” Tanis conceded with a smile of his own.

 

Jareth’s brows drew close together. “I would not be surprised to discover that this girl child, who so many seem to be enamored of, will be found to be at the center of this mystery.”

 

“But, she is just a mortal,” Tanis exclaimed.

 

“A mortal, who has visited the Fae at least seven times,” Jareth reminded him. “All manner of damage might have been committed due to her continued presence here. We must watch this child closely.”

 

Tanis’ craggy brows formed into a frown. “How can this be done? Don’t your crystals have certain limitations?” Tanis was taking a great chance in saying this to Jareth, for the king did not like to be reminded that he was under limitations of any sort. It implied weakness and weakness was not something that Jareth readily admitted to.

 

“The crystals, yes,” he agreed quietly. “But, I am under no such limitations.”

 

Tanis’ eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “What?! You would go yourself?!”

 

“But of course,” Jareth said in an offhand manner, as if the solution was quite obvious. “I will go Above, and enter this girl’s life to discover for myself how she has managed such an unmanageable feat.” Stroking his chin, he added, “I will need to make use of a glamour.”

 

Looking over Jareth’s exotic appearance from head to toe, Tanis laughingly replied, “I’ll say. Better make it a good one.”

 

“Oh, I shall dear Tanis, I shall.” Jareth sounded awfully sure of himself, and Tanis was quite impressed with his confidence.

 

“There is that little matter of the invocation,” Tanis ventured to remind him.

 

After a moment’s refection, Jareth said, “I shall send her a gift, one that will be something that she cannot refuse. In it, I shall place the invocation.”

 

“How do you know for sure that she will use the invocation?”

 

“I fore-see no problem, the child seems eager enough to linger in our world. She will use it,” Jareth told him with dead certainty. “Higgle!” The king’s bellow brought the dwarf running. He was covered in dust having been digging through the archives, following Jareth’s earlier command.

 

The dwarf sneezed violently before addressing the king, “Yes, your highness?” His voice was muffled due to the fact that he was in the midst of wiping his running nose on the sleeve of his tunic. “Blasted allergies,” Hoggle grumbled, taking another swipe at his nose.

 

“I have an errand for you, Hogsmead,” Jareth began, while idly flinging his leg over the arm of his throne. “You will take this,” Jareth twisted his wrist and a small red book appeared, “and give it to the young girl who was in the Underground earlier today.”

 

Hoggle looked at the book as if it were contaminated with some sort of dreadful disease. “What’ll it do to her,” he asked crossly. Jareth frowned, but Hoggle would not be put off by the alarming expression on the king’s face. “I won’t do nuthen that’ll hurt her.”

 

“Oh dear, it appears as if Hogswart has finally found his spine.” Jareth gave a short, mocking laugh. “And most inopportune it is.” Sitting upright in one fluid motion, Jareth conjured up his riding crop and swung it through the air until it whistled.

 

Hoggle eyed the swinging crop warily. Did the king intend to use it on him? It wouldn’t be unheard of; he did have quite a temper. Hoggle had been on the receiving end of many a kick, jab and a punch. But, he’d never been the target of the riding crop before!

 

Jareth ordered in a deadly whisper, “You will do as you are bid or suffer the consequences. Have I made myself clear?” Hoggle nodded his head. “Good, let’s recap shall we?” Jareth continued, speaking slowly as if to a dull witted child, ‘What are you going to do, Hogsbreath?”

 

“Take the book and give it to the girl,” Hoggle obediently repeated the king’s plan.

 

“Very good,” Jareth praised him with false sincerity. “Make sure to leave the book in a familiar place, one where she frequents on a regular basis. You can manage to do that much, can you not?”

 

Hoggle dared a glare at his master from beneath the safety of his heavily beetled eyebrows. Then, letting out a be-deviled grunt, he snatched the book from the king. Harrumphing and grumbling inaudibly, he turned and stomped his way out of the throne room.

 

Choking back a laugh, Tanis asked, “Do you think he’ll actually manage to follow through with your instructions without making a mess of it?”

 

Tapping the heel of his boot with his riding crop, Jareth murmured in a threatening manner, “He will, if he knows what’s good for him.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So, the Goblin King seeks to interfere. This will not do, not do at all.”

 

Peony kept her eyes posted on the fairy before her. Her lush body was draped in purple silk, and unlike most of the fairy clan she was clothed modestly. Where most of Peony’s sisters wore as little as possible, her greater sister chose to leave very little of her skin exposed. Peony never understood her greater sister’s preference, but who was she to question it.

 

Taking a deep breath, and with a sense of fulsome fear, Peony defended herself, “I told him nothing, sister.”

 

“You told him enough,” her sister hissed violently, violet eyes flashing with fury. 

 

“I did not break my oath!” Peony insisted passionately.

 

“Of course not, you little fool. If you had you wouldn’t be here at all. Still, you gave the king enough information as to make him curious, and a curious Goblin King can be a troublesome Goblin King.”

 

“He threatened me,” she shivered, and then continued. “He intimated that he would crush my wings unless I answered his questions.”

 

A gurgle of delighted laughter escaped the greater sister’s throat. “Did he? How droll.”

 

“I did not find his words amusing,” Peony sulkily replied. “He was quite cruel!”

 

“Yes,” her sister mused, “the Goblin King has a cruel nature. I have always admired that particular trait of his character.”

 

Peony crossed her arms over her middle, and huffily enquired, “What will you do?”

 

 “For now… nothing. Let us first see what the king has in store for the girl. He has a habit of acting before thinking, he is impetuous and impatient. Two traits which do not generally serve him well. We may be able to turn his untimely interference to our advantage.”

 

Flickering her fingers at Peony, she ordered, “Go and prepare my rose petal and milk bath.” Peony nodded timidly before flying away in search of the sweetest smelling roses in the Fields. Just before Peony was beyond her sight, she called after her, “And this time be sure that the milk is to my specific instructions! The last time it was too cool.” Then, with a sly glint in her eyes, she reminded Peony of a fact that very few knew, “Mine is not a tepid nature.”

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who continue to read!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoggle is _not_ happy about his mission and meets up with the Lady of the Lake.

**Chapter 3**

****Hurt and anger, pain, regret… the time for new hope may not be yet. Reality thrives on your apathy, dines amidst dense decay leaving nowhere on which a dreamer's head it may lay.** **

****

Hoggle struggled to pull himself up and over one of the many boulders which barred the way to his destination. Reaching the fringes of the veil hadn't taken him long for he was well acquainted with the way. Hadn't the king – louse that he was – sent him out often enough? Panting slightly from the exercise, he placed his hands on his knees and bent over trying to catch his breath. It was a torturous journey, but well worth the effort because the vista before him was wondrous to behold. Trees of every breed known to man – and a few not known – littered the area. He could just make out a few wood nymphs disappearing into the trunks of several of the more ancient trees. Catching sight of him, one waved and then blew him a flirtatious kiss. Blushing madly, Hoggle waved back.

A tranquil breeze swept the sweet-smelling aroma of honeysuckle and hyacinth toward him where it tickled and teased his nose. Here, the flowers and herbs grew profusely side-by-side, alternately sharing the shade and basking in the descending rays of the setting sun. It was monstrously untamed and yet there was a masterful orderliness about it as well. In that way it was actually not unlike the lands in which he, himself, called home.

It was all of this splendor, and more, which made Hoggle hate having to travel back and forth to the mortal world. That place was disgustingly dirty with its loud traveling machines constantly blowing out fumes that burned his eyes and had him hacking up balls of phlegm. Hoggle didn't like the many tall man-made buildings either. The Labyrinth, though made of stone, held a natural beauty within its magically constructed walls. Even the castle's forbidding and austere aura was thrown into relief with its ponds, forests, gardens and hedges. Yes, his home had its less than desirable attributes but it was intersected with pleasant qualities too.

Not so, in his opinion, was the world of Man. _Their_ buildings had all but choked out the natural glory of their woodlands. Odious noise near drowned out the marvelous swelling songs of the birds. Hoggle could not begin to understand how the mortals survived amongst so little of Nature's gifts.

After a moment's more reflection, Hoggle reached for the object that the king had given him. Holding it from one corner, he gave it the once over. It didn't look dangerous but in his world things were not always what they seemed. He used his thumbs to try to push the cover back and found that it was bound shut. He rightly supposed that only the girl would be able to pull apart its pages.

Hoggle was torn between doing what the king had ordered him to do, and doing what he thought was the right thing. He'd been honest with the king when he'd said he didn't want anything bad to happen to the girl.

With a disgruntled harrumph, he shoved the red book back into the waist-band of his trousers, and then called out, "Lady Nimuae… Lady of the Lake, I ask for your presence here so that you and I might speak. It won't take long for I've come to ask, that you wave your hand to part the glass."

A great roaring was heard and then, in the middle of the lake, a massive geyser of water rose majestically from the stillness. The cool, silver waters re-arranged themselves into that of the long-limbed and exquisitely sublime form and features of the Lady of the Lake. No matter how many times Hoggle witnessed this particular event he always found it to be a moving experience. The Lady was admired far and wide for her generosity and kindness to all. For Hoggle, who was shown little kindness in his daily life, it was truly remarkable the way in which he was treated by this superior being.

"Hail thee well, Hoggle of the Labyrinth." Her voice rang out and yet seemed to be not that above a whisper in the wind.

Hoggle dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "Greetings to you, Lady of the Lake," he said with a reverence that he never would have bestowed upon the ruler of the Goblin Kingdom. "I have come to ask a favor of thee in the name of my king."

"Rise, my friend," she commanded softly, "and ask of me what you will."

Hoggle scrambled to his feet pulling off his cap in the process as a show of deference to the Lady's presence, and then said, "The Goblin King requests safe passage for me through the Hollow Hills."

The Lady subjected him to a thorough inspection before stating matter-of-factly, "You carry an object of magical origin." Hoggle detected a note of concern in her dulcet cadence. "It is not wise to pass beyond the veil with such an object," she rebuked him gently.

"Meanen no disrespect to you, my Lady," Hoggle replied, nervously twisting the skull-cap between his knotted fingers, "but the king wishes to send me Above with this here book."

Lady Nimuae's aquamarine eyes followed the line of Hoggle's thumb until it came to rest on the package at his waist. "Ahh," the Lady murmured in understanding. "The king sends you on, yet again, another errand." Hoggle nodded. "While it is his right to do so," she conceded, "it is my duty to decide that which is best for this world and for that of the world Above. 'Tis the reason I was given the task of guarding the thinly veiled portals betwixt this worldd," she turned and raised her glistening arm and pointed to the rolling hills that had stood for centuries, "and to the one which lies yonder beyond the Hollow Hills."

"I know, my Lady," Hoggle murmured, feeling ashamed at having to engage in a dispute with this most wondrous creature. "But, the king will not be happy," he ventured to say, "if I don't do as he asks. He's got a temper, that one."

"Friend Hoggle, you will be punished if you fail in your quest?" She inquired quietly. Clearly this thought was disturbing to her.

"Umm… again, meanen no disrespect, but I ain't exactly his favorite." _An understatement of there ever was one_ , Hoggle thought with a grimace. _The nasty turd hated his guts_ _and he had the bruises to prove it._

"Fear not friend Hoggle," she assured him, smiling benevolently, "you may speak freely here in this place. The Goblin King cannot see into the mysteries of the Lake unless I permit it to be so."

"He ain't a watchen," Hoggle asked, leaning forward with a hopeful look on his face.

"The King of Goblins has made the attempt, but he has been unable to penetrate my magic." Leaning forward as well, she whispered to him as if they were co-conspirators. "He has resigned himself to being unaware of our dealings together."

"In that case," Hoggle rushed on. "Yeah, the rat's ass would probably beat me black and blue iffen I don't get this here book to where it's supposed to go." Hot color washed across Hoggle's face. "I apologize for my language, dear Lady."

Nimuae was tempted to giggle. Something she hadn't felt the urge to do since the days of her beloved Myrddin. Taking pity on the poor, mortified dwarf she asked instead, "Where, my gallant friend is this book's ultimate destination?"

"It's to go to the mortal girl that's always comen round here." He sniffed. "You know the one."

"Yes," Nimuae acknowledged with a slight tilt of her stately head, "I believe that I do. She would be the rather reluctant child I returned Above so many years gone by."

"That'd be her." Hoggle grunted his agreement. "But I told his royal pain in the butt that I wouldn't do nuthen to hurt her! No sirree, don't wanna hurt her."

"I believe you, my diminutive guest." Nimuae knew that although the dwarf before her had a tendency to be cross and crotchety, his heart was massive and true. "The Goblin King gave his promise that no harm would come to the girl?"

"Pfft," Hoggle sneered while making a downward motion from the wrist. "That one wouldn't give a hoot bout her. Doesn't give a hoot bout nuthen or anything but his self!"

Raising a quizzical brow, Nimuae asked, "Do you think that perhaps you are seeing your monarch from a skewed perspective?"

Hoggle did a double take. How could she even ask such a thing? Hadn't she seen the king in action for herself? He was pretty darn tooten' sure that she had! It was no great secret how despicable the ruler of the Labyrinth was! How could the Lady of the Lake defend him?

"Peace, friend Hoggle." Nimuae smiled benignly at the distraught looking dwarf before admitting to him, "I am aware of your king's pension for pitiless behavior. But, let not your bitterness blind you to your king's honorable allegiance to those he rules."

Hoggle let out a snort of disbelief while crossing his arms over his chest and turning away. Nimuae sympathized with the dwarf. His life, thus far, had been one of arduous labor at the behest of King Jareth. Still, her annoyed little friend had no knowledge of the circumstances which surrounded the Goblin King and that which had led to his hardened heart. Though, that particular tale was not hers to tell.

"Very well, friend Hoggle. You may pass."

Hoggle arms fell to his sides as he spun around, and then, he asked in disbelief, "That's it? No more questions? You're just gonna let me through?" Nimuae nodded. Exasperated, Hoggle exclaimed, "But, you don't know for sure if the king intends to harm the girl or not!"

"Do you," she queried calmly.

Hoggle wasn't sure what to say. Truth was, he had no clue what barbaric deeds might have been running amok in his kings' head when the book was given over to him with the instructions to take it Above. Despondently Hoggle pushed a small stone back and forth with the toe of his shoe and then unwillingly muttered, "Nope."

"Just so," Nimuae breathed, sounding satisfied.

Then, a sudden sharp, cool wind struck Hoggle making him aware of the lateness of the hour. He glanced up at the full moon hovering overhead. It had already been closing in on evening when he had reached this hallowed domain. At that time, the day's opulent red-orange sphere had just been setting over the horizon. Now, the skies had darkened completely and the only illumination came from the radiant, statuesque figure of the Lady of the Lake.

Hoggle watched as the Lady slowly raised her arms as well as her beauteous face heavenward. Long, silvery limbs and serene countenance glimmered and glistened as if the stars that blanketed the night sky had been pulled from their stationary home, and placed within the depths of her being. Hoggle knew that although the Lady of the Lake could take physical form at will; she was not really of the corporeal world. Long ago she'd given up mortality to take residence near the Hollow Hills, and as far back as Hoggle could remember – which was pretty darn far – this is where she had always been.

Ancient words began spill forth from the Lady's lips, a chanted litany which – though Hoggle had heard numerous times before – remained an undecipherable riddle to his ears. He shuddered as the winds picked up in force. His jerkin and pants whipped back molding to his paunchy middle and his knarled knees.

Stray droplets from the enchanted Lake flew in Hoggle's direction; he used his arm to protect his face from the airborne residue. Then, just as swiftly as the ritual began it ended. Lowering his forearm, Hoggle could see that farther on the mountains had separated leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

Nimuae spoke softly, "Travel in safety." Then she added, sounding ominous, "But, have a care Hoggle of the Labyrinth for the Waters indicate that you will be sorely tested in the time to come."

Hoggle's thick, overgrown eyebrows rose in alarm. He hadn't expected a dire warning! He was just going Above and dropping off a book, and that's where he intended his involvement to end! What could the Lady mean?

With a sweeping arc of her arm, Nimuae bid him, "Go now, my friend. The way back will not be barred to you. Blessings be upon you till we meet again." Before Hoggle had a chance to thank her, the Lady of the Lake descended in a lustrous wall of cascading water.

Hoggle eyed the murky aperture in the side of the mountain with suspicion. Maybe he should just go back home and forget all about the book and the girl. He could throw it in the Bog and no one would be the wiser. But, even as he thought those thoughts he knew that he had no choice but to trudge forward. If he took it into his fool head to destroy the book, the king would find out. Blasted bastard found out everything, his spies were everywhere. There was no telling what the king might to do him, and Hoggle was more scared of _that_ than he was of the Lady's words of caution.

Giving a disgruntled huff, Hoggle began to trudge toward the mountain. Before moving into the inky, measureless chasm he checked to make sure that his burden was still secure at his waist. Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped into the void.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review if you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small look into Sarah's life in her foster home.

**"Do you believe in fairy-tales and dreams that never end, or shattered hearts and broken souls that only love can mend? Do gallant knights on strong white steeds honestly exist? Or is mystical Camelot a mere shadow in gossamer mists"**

**Chapter 4**

Sarah pulled out a dish towel from a near-by drawer and laid it by the dish drainer and then turned the kitchen faucet on full blast. Leaning her hip against the side of the counter she wondered if she'd be able to stay awake long enough to do her homework this evening. Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder to check on the depth of the water. It was her turn to do the dishes and while she didn't have a problem with doing them – chores were part and parcel in the Martin household – she just wished that Momma Martin wouldn't let them pile up.

Instead of just standing around twiddling her thumbs while waiting for the sink to fill, she reached back into one of the pockets of her jeans and pulled out a dog-eared copy of 'The Enchanted Peach.' Sneaking in a page or two shouldn't be a problem even though Momma and Poppa Martin had warned her that chores came before books. Besides, there'd be no point in trying to wash up straight away. Two day old food-encrusted dishes were a pain to clean unless you used extra dish liquid and then left them to sit in very hot water for a good fifteen minutes or so.

As she opened the book, out of the corner of her eye, Sarah could see Cass off in the next room vacuuming. By the sputtering and whining coming from that area, it sounded as if the old machine had about as much energy left in it as she did. Poppa Martin had tried to fix the relic, which looked like it had come straight out of the dinosaur era, several times. Sarah wouldn't have been at all surprised if the thing was held together with nothing more than a mouthful of spit and a stick of gum. A stick of Wrigley spearmint gum to be exact.

Momma Martin chewed it exclusively and compulsively, and Sarah couldn't help but wonder if she chewed it constantly to hide the smell of liquor. It was no big secret to anyone in the house that she took a 'nip or two' on a regular basis. Not that she was a falling down drunk or anything. Momma Martin definitely knew how to hold her liquor and hold it well.

"Better watch what you're doing there, princess," a deep voice filled with warmth warned her from behind.

Startled, Sarah looked up from her book. "Huh?" Then, her face broke out into a huge, breath-taking smile. "Jem," Sarah squealed, happily throwing her arms around his neck.

Reaching passed her; Jem used his thumb to push the handle of the faucet to the down position switching the water off. Returning her hug, he reminded her with a laugh, "The Mommas and the Poppas are going to have your hide if you make a mess, and all on account of some lame book."

Jem chuckled, when Sarah spun around and upon seeing the water about to rise above the basin exclaimed in dismay, "Oh, shit!"

Grabbing the dish towel, she used it as a barrier to keep the excess water and bubbles from spilling out over onto the floor. An extra pair of hands began adding paper towels to the soaked through cotton cloth. Chuckling again, Jem said, "You really should pay attention to what's going on around you, princess."

Sarah blushed, and then blushed even harder when her fingers collided with those of her rescuer. Her rescuer. Her hero. Her knight. That's exactly how Sarah thought of Jem. In her mind he'd been all of those things to her since she was ten years old.

**The Past**

She'd been living with the Martin's for only a little over a week and had been out in the backyard holding court with her stuffed teddy, a dolly belonging to the Martins niece, and an extra pillow from the hall closet. Just as she was about ready to send Sir Lancelot out on his first heroic quest, a boy about Sarah's own age had come charging from around the other side of the house. The boy had stopped short when he'd seen her and then had walked quickly to where she was sitting on the grass.

"Whatcha playen?" The red-haired boy had demanded.

At first, Sarah had said nothing. She wasn't one to talk to strangers, and even though he was just a kid like her, there was something about him that she didn't like at all.

Placing his hands in his hips the boy asked once again, "Well… whatcha doen?" He'd sounded annoyed and that had scared Sarah so she grabbed up Lancelot from his place around her version of the Round Table and clutched him close to her chest.

His eyes had immediately zeroed in on her action and with a nasty laugh he'd reached out and grabbed Lancelot by one of his arms. Sarah had jumped to her feet yelling, "Let him go!" But, he just continued to pull on her bear, with her pulling equally as hard from Lancelot's other arm. They'd engaged in a tug of war of massive proportions over her prized possession. Looking back, Sarah supposed that what had happened next had been unavoidable.

Poor Lancelot had been unable to withstand the pressure and with a terrible ripping sound her favorite toy – and the only thing she'd had left from her real family – was now missing a limb. She'd let out an agonized wail. "NO!"

She'd been standing there with tears of devastation slipping down her face when a teenaged boy came sprinting out the back door. He'd taken one look at Lancelot dangling from her hand minus one arm and the red-headed youngster who held the other part, and had sized the situation up correctly. Swearing softly, he snatched Lancelot's arm from the kid. Then, the older boy grabbed the younger by the back of his shirt and yanked him off of his feet. "You little shit! You'd better get your ass outta here, and if I see you in this yard again I'm gonna make it so that you won't be able to sit down for a good long time!" With that, he'd dropped the younger boy, who scrambled to his feet and then taken off for parts unknown. Sarah had never seen him again.

The older boy watched the younger beat his hasty retreat, no doubt making sure he actually left, before turning back to Sarah. "What's your friend's name," her rescuer asked with a small smile, while picking up her bear's arm and handing it back to her.

Sarah took it from him with a sniff and then mumbled, "Lancelot."

His small smile widened into a huge grin, and it was the most perfect thing that Sarah had ever seen up to that point. "You mean like in the King Arthur stories?"

Sarah lowered the bear from her face, and gave the older boy a tentative smile of her own before saying quietly, "Yes."

He sat down on the ground and crossed his long legs, while informing her, "Those are some of my favorite stories. I love that stuff. For a long time I wanted to be a knight when I grew up."

As Sarah went to sit back down, she whispered, "I think you'd make a good knight."

Tilting his head to the side, he asked, "Do you?" Sarah nodded. "Well, I better know my lady's name then. So, tell me, what's your name Lady…?"

"Sarah." Then, she added, "You were very brave."

He snorted. "Brave? Naw. I just can't stand a bully." His face screwed up into a frown. "Funny though, I don't remember seeing that kid around here before." Shaking it off with a laugh, he said, "Well, enough of that, Lady Sarah." Sticking out his hand, he continued, "I'm Jeremy, but my friends call me Jem."

She shook his hand and then glanced down at her bear. Tears began to well up in her eyes again, and then she stated in a tragic voice, "He ripped my poor Lancelot."

"Hey now," Jem gently admonished, "no more tears from my Lady's lovely eyes. I can fix this, you know."

"Really," Sarah asked with a hopeful look.

"Really," he stated firmly. And Sarah had believed him.

He'd taken her by the hand and led her into the house. Once there, he'd dug out Momma Martin's sewing kit and with great care and precision had fixed Lancelot right up. All the while they traded stories about the things that they liked to do, and interspersing it with tid-bits about themselves.

Jem now knew that Sarah's favorite color was purple and that she loved to eat pizza but hated brussel sprouts. She liked to read, but she hated school because they made her do math. She got along okay with the Martins, but hadn't met anyone else in the neighborhood yet except for the nasty boy that he'd chased off.

Sarah had learned that Jem liked to eat veggie lo mien with shrimp and cream cheese egg rolls. That his favorite color was green and that he too liked to read, but that, unlike her, he was good in math. He'd also told her that he'd lived with the Martins for six years, but had been away helping Poppa Martin's brother on his farm for the last two weeks. When, he mentioned that while he liked her teddy bear, Lancelot: the actual knight from Arthurian legend hadn't been his favorite; Sarah had asked him why. He stopped sewing, looked at her, and queried, "How much do you know about the story of King Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere?"

"Not much."

"Well, let's just say that Lancelot took something that didn't belong to him, and it really irritated me. I'm not a big fan of thieves."

"Lancelot stole something," Sarah asked with a gasp. "What?" The stories Sarah had read or been told about had Lancelot being the best knight of the Round Table.

Jem looked at her a moment, and then said, "Guinevere was King Arthur's wife. Did you know that?" Sarah indicated with her head that she hadn't known that. "Sarah, how much _do_ you know about Arthur and the knights?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Sarah remarked, "I just started to really like those stories. Most of the books I have are all about princesses and witches and fairies. My teacher at school has been telling us about King Arthur and it sounded fun, so I took some books out of the school library."

Now, Jem understood. It was a certainty that a school wouldn't have books in their possession about men stealing other men's wives, murder, incest and countless other crimes which men – and women – had committed in those tales. No, Sarah's books would be watered down considerably. No doubt they were filled with generic adventures, generic magic, and generic people. Jem supposed that was best for someone of Sarah's tender age.

"They're wonderful! I love the stories about Merlin; he has magic and not just the fake kind either!"

Jem grinned at her enthusiasm and it was obvious by the stubborn tilt of her chin that he would not be wise to argue about Merlin's magic… real or otherwise. He tied a knot in the end of the thread and cut off the dangling piece before handing the teddy bear back to Sarah.

"See," Jem remarked with pride, "good as new."

Sarah's face lit up to Christmas tree proportions and as she raised her head to look at him, he saw that her green eyes were shining with tears, but this time they were tears of gratitude. "Oh, thank-you Jem! Thank-you!" So saying, she flung her arms around his waist and hugged him tight with all of her might.

Sarah felt him release a long sigh, and brushing his hand over the top of her head, he replied, "You're welcome, Sarah." Then, he asked, "What's your favorite fairy-tale?" Best to be getting off of the Arthurian legends. Perhaps, when Sarah was older, they'd be able to discuss the real adventures of Arthur and his knights.

Her voice was muffled because her face was pressed into his shirt, but Jem could make out what she said just fine. "I love them all! But, especially the ones where the girl is a princess only she doesn't know it."

Brushing a finger through her bangs, he shook his head up and down before saying, "I see… like 'The Princess and the Pea."

Giving his waist another tight squeeze, Sarah answered, "Yes, just like that!"

Taking her chin in his hand, he looked around before bending and whispering in her ear, "Maybe we have our very own princess living right here in this very house only she doesn't know it!"

Sarah's eyes grew wide. "Maybe," she whispered back.

"Maybe," Jem continued, giving her chin a light shake, "just to be safe, cause I don't want to get on the bad side of royalty; maybe I should just go ahead and address her by her rightful title of princess. What do you think?"

"Okay," she agreed with a dazzling smile.

Tapping her on the nose, he said, "Okay, princess, how about we ask Momma Martin if we can go to the park for a little while?"

After giving him one more heartfelt hug, Sarah grabbed his hand and began to pull him to the kitchen where Momma Martin was having her afternoon cup of coffee with a dash… or two, of rum.

The years that had followed had been some of the best of Sarah's young life. All due to Jem: Her rescuer, her hero, her knight. He had quickly become her best friend, and she hadn't yet fully realized just how much she depended on him until two years later.

At sixteen, Jem had been deemed by the Martins as old enough to get a job. Having a job, plus school and chores had left very little time for her in Jem's life. Although they lived in the same house, their schedules were such that their paths rarely crossed. Sarah had been devastated.

Those first few months of Jem's employment had been a mess. Sarah was ashamed to admit that she'd been the one to make it a royal pain, or rather; she'd been _the_ royal pain. She just could not deal with the loss of Jem. She began throwing tantrums the likes of which the Martin's, in all their years of fostering kids, had never seen. Finally, Jem himself had to sit Sarah down and explain to her that creating such a ruckus at her age was not acceptable.

At first he'd tried reasoning with her, but reasoning with an unhappy twelve-year old was a lot harder than what he thought it was going to be. He told her that he missed her too. That he wished he could spend more of his time with her. And, that it bothered him that they couldn't manage to read together anymore or act out plays in their favorite place at the park. He had shared with her all of what he had been feeling but, even with all of that, she still wouldn't be reasonable.

She stomped her foot and while in a rage, screamed. "It's not fair! I hate this place and I hate you!" Her words had stopped Jem in his tracks, and though she'd meant it, the look on Jem's face had, for a second, made her wish that she hadn't said it.

Jem was silent for a moment, gravely taking careful inventory of every feature of her face. His eyes moved from the widow's peak sprouting from the perfect oval of her forehead, to the softly rounded cheekbones now filled with hot color, passed the lightly freckled nose, encompassing her softly dented chin After sparing her red-bitten mouth a passing glance, he finally settled on her eyes. Eyes of green, and not just any green, the ever changing green of the Caribbean seas. One moment a dark emerald, the next a shifting of bluish-green, and sometimes, like now, a stormy slate-blue an almost translucent grey. Yes, definitely ever changing, just like Sarah herself.

"Sarah," he said with a firmness that he rarely used with her, "it might not be fair, but not everything in life goes the way we want or wish it would. I _really_ need you to try to understand that. You have to stop this. These fits, or tantrums, or whatever… they have to end! Please."

Crossing her arms over her burgeoning chest, Sarah spat out in defiance, "I won't! You can't make me! None of you can! I'll keep doing it until you give me what I want!"

Exasperated, Jem grabbed her upper arms in a painful grip. Thrusting his face close to hers he shook her so violently that her neck snapped forward and back. "Don't you get it?" he demanded angrily. "They're going to send you away, Sarah! Send you away!"

"No," she denied, her voice cracking, "they wouldn't."

She was frightened, really frightened, he could see that. But, this needed to be done. If it scared her into behaving, so be it. Last evening he'd heard Momma and Poppa Martin tossing around the idea of sending Sarah back to Social Services, and it had scared him shitless too.

"Yes," Jem argued, "they would! And they will if you don't grow up a little." Cupping her cheek with one of his hands, he asked, his voice serious, "Do you want that, Sarah? Do you want to leave and never see me again?"

"No," she whispered, grabbing the hand that still held her face. Wet, wide terrified eyes silently begged him just as the words tumbled from her in an agonized wail, "Don't let them send me away!" She was trembling wildly and the tears were coming so hard and fast that Jem could hardly make out what she said next, "Please…" she stuttered, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand, "I'll be good! I promise! I promise! I promise! I prom…!"

Jem roughly pulled Sarah close and held her as tight as he could without hurting her, and then began whispering unintelligible nonsense into the dark swath of her hair. It was the type of nonsense meant to soothe a distraught child and gradually it began to work. After awhile, Sarah's body had ceased its' trembling and she slumped against him, exhausted but still weeping.

Jem said to her in a choked voice, "Don't cry anymore, princess." Rubbing her back with one hand and holding her head in the crook of his neck with the other, he joked, "I left my raincoat at work." It was a feeble attempt to lighten things up, but he felt Sarah give a half-hearted laugh and it made him feel just a little bit better.

"Don't let them take me away," she begged while burrowing closer to Jem. "Please?"

"Listen to me, Sarah," he spoke softly into the side of her face, "It's all up to you. It's in your power… _you_ have the power to decide whether or not you stay. Not me, you!"

"What'll I do," she asked, sounding confused, but much less distraught. "Tell me what I need to do _._ "

Pulling back so he could look her straight in the eyes, Jem said, "You can start by growing up a little." Pushing her damp hair back from her splotchy face, he asked, "Can you do that?"

Nodding, she said earnestly, "I can do that, I can!" Chewing on her lip, Sarah asked hesitantly, "A little, right?" At his puzzled expression, she went on, "You said I only have to grow up a little."

Jem threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. "You precious, precious girl," he chuckled while rubbing his nose gently against hers, "Yes, just a little. _But_ , it has to be enough to stop the tantrums and the fighting with Momma and Poppa Martin. But, not so much that I lose my little princess. Okay?"

"Kay," she readily agreed, giving him a watery smile. Leaning forward she kissed his cheek, and added with touching urgency, "I love you, Jem."

"And I you," he assured her.

That was the year that Sarah grew up. Not much… just a little… just enough to please the Martins, but not so much that she stopped believing in magic. Just enough to make things easier for everyone, but not so much that she stopped play-acting scenes from her favorite books while in the park. Just enough so that Jem could go to work with a clear conscience, but not so much that she stopped being his little princess.

It was also the year that –much to Sarah's delight – instead of finding her way to the fairies and their enchanted world as she had so often done in the past… the fairies, for the first time ever, came to her.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts on this fic!


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